


Into the Cage

by TiredAvenger17



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Serial Killers, Serious Injuries, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-12-28 06:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredAvenger17/pseuds/TiredAvenger17
Summary: An unwelcome guest drops into Malcolm's apartment.





	1. The Visit

Hey! First fanfic on this site. I have fallen completely in love with Prodigal Son and just had to write something.

* * *

“Thank you for driving me home.” Malcolm said as he unlocked the heavy door to his apartment. He pushed it open with a slight shove of his shoulder, hearing Sunshine’s sweet trill of greeting as it swung open.

“No problem.” Dani responded, entering through the doorway after him. Her brown eyes flit around the pristine apartment. “I’d never pass up a chance of seeing your Batcave again.”

A small smile played at Malcolm’s lips as he carefully shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it on the bed. “Nice job today with Jacobson, by the way. I don’t want to think about what would have happened to Miranda if you hadn’t been such a quick shot.”

“Thanks.” She murmured distractedly, staring thoughtfully at one of Bright’s art pieces on the wall before turning to face him. “And congratulations are in order for you, as you didn’t almost die during this case for once.”

“I don’t-“ He started to say before stopping himself with a conceding smirk. “Well, let’s just call that progress.”

Dani smiled back, a rare Dani Powell smile that few were lucky enough to witness. She briefly met Malcolm’s gaze before quickly glancing around the large apartment. “Hey, Bright. Can I use your washroom before I go?”

“Sure, it’s just down the hallway.” He said, nodding towards the far side of the living room.

“Thanks.”

He stood motionless for a moment before the imaginary nagging voice of his mother chastised him for leaving his suit jacket crumpled on the bed. He snatched it up from the bed and made his way into his walk-in closet. He put his jacket on a coat hanger, momentarily smoothing out the creases in the fabric with his fingers. He frowned when he noticed a great deal of soot on the expensive fabric. They had traced the perp today to his hideout in the industrial district. He’d brutally murdered his two estranged children a few days’ prior before going after their mother. Another family annihilator who’d snapped a few months after losing custody.

Malcolm had just swept off what he could of the soot when his ears picked up the sound of the bathroom door opening. He was about to kick off his shoes when he heard a small gasp before something heavy hit the ground.

“Dani?” He frowned, quickly exiting his closet as Sunshine squawked in panic in her cage. “Dani, are you alright?”

He rounded the corner and was met with a sight that was usually reserved for his nightmares. His father, Dr. Martin Whitly, was slowly emerging from the hallway and into the living room, adorned in his prison attire.

“Dad?” The word was almost involuntarily ripped from his lips in his shock before he corrected himself, a tremor running through his hand. “Dr. Whitly.”

“Hello, Malcolm.” His father smiled. “My apologies for dropping by so unexpectedly.”

Malcolm was at a loss for words. His mind was having difficulties comprehending what was in front of him at this very moment. He gawked open-mouthed at his father, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

He finally found his words. “What have you done to Dani? If you’ve hurt-“

“She’s fine.” Martin interrupted somewhat harshly, as if the very mention of her was an inconvenience to him. “Nothing an ice pack won’t fix. Though I have to admit I was expecting you to be alone. Hope I’m not interrupting a romantic dalliance.”

Malcolm blinked in rapid succession, trying to quell the anger mingling with his confusion. His father had touched Dani, one of the only good things he had in his life. No, he corrected himself, he hadn’t touched her because this wasn’t real. This has to be another one of his dreams. It has to be. He must be asleep. He had been driven home by Dani, she had used his washroom and then left. He reluctantly went to bed afterwards. This must be a dream.

Martin’s smile faltered at his silence. “My boy, I thought you would be happy to see me.”

Malcolm stared at him, half expecting devil horns to grow from his father’s head and for his eyes to glow red. He glanced at the walls of his apartment, waiting for them to start closing in. It was about now that the dream would contort into something other worldly, something that would make him scream and twist in the restraints, waking up with dark bruises around his wrists and an aching jaw.

“This isn’t real.” He muttered, shaking his head. “This can’t be real.”

“What’s that? You’ll have to speak up, Malcolm.”

“You can’t be here.” Malcolm stated louder. “You can’t possibly be here. All the security at the hospital-”

“All locked doors are open if you can convince the one with the key.” Martin explained, his voice light and amused as he watched Malcolm struggle internally with this information. “Though, of course, all loose ends have been dealt with.”

“How do you even know where I live?”

“Never you mind.” Martin muttered as he shook his head, obviously getting irritated. “Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed this, we really should get going. They’ll have noticed my absence by now, and I wanted to get a head start on our way out of the city.”

It took a moment for his father’s words to sink in before Malcolm’s eyes grew wide in fear. He took a step back, stumbling as his legs accidentally collided with his bed. This wasn’t a quick visit and goodbye.

His mind was a mess, working a hundred miles per minute as he thought of all the possible ways out of here. He couldn’t leave without Dani. He would never forgive himself if he left her alone with his father, but in order to get to her, he had to go through the source of all his nightmares.

“Dr. Whitly.” Malcolm started carefully, making his way slowly towards the older man despite every inch of his being screaming at him to keep as much distance between them as possible. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, please. I’m not one of your copycat criminals, Malcolm. You can’t talk me down or distract me.”

“Dad.” He tried again, trying not to grimace as the word soured in his mouth. “We can work this out.”

Malcolm’s resort to the kinship term briefly caught Martin off guard, but he was quickly regained his composure as Malcolm neared closer. The older man put his hand in his wool cardigan pocket, diverting Malcolm’s attention and halting him in his tracks. He was still a few feet from the glass coffee pot upon the kitchen island. If he could just reach it…

Martin’s hand left his pocket, and the sight of a rag in his grip spurred Malcolm into action. He lunged for the coffee pot, feeling his father’s hand on his shoulder before Malcolm swung the pot around and smashed it into Martin’s head.

The pot smashed upon impact, the shards of glass sent flying. His father swore loudly in pain, bringing his free hand to his head as Malcolm bolted towards the door. He had no intention of fleeing, but he needed to get it open or else no one would be able to hear him call out due to the prior installation of soundproofing throughout his entire apartment. What had been an extent pursued for the sake of not bothering the neighbors during his night terrors now became a fatal hindrance. 

He reached the door, only to have his shaking hands struggle with the rusted sliding deadbolt that Dani had likely locked behind them once they had entered. She knew that he hated having the door unlocked, even when they were in the apartment for only a moment. Malcolm just finally managed to jimmy the bolt out when a rag was forced over his mouth and nose, a strong arm wrapping around his middle. Malcolm’s hands gripped the doorknob tightly as his father tried to pull him away from his only means of salvation. He held his breath, having detected the sickly sweet perfume of chloroform on the rag.

Changing tactics, Malcolm waited until a pause in Martin’s attempts to pull him away and utilized the leverage of Martin’s grip on him before he planted his foot against the wall next to the door. He pushed with all his might as he turned the knob. They toppled backwards to the ground in a mess of limbs. Martin’s grip on Malcolm was jarred as a result of the impact, allowing Malcolm to drag the rag away from his face and take a gasp of air.

The door was mercifully open.

“Help!” He screamed hoarsely, his cries mingling with Sunshine’s terrified chirps as he struggled against Martin’s renewed attempts to smother him with the rag. “Someone, please, hel-!”

His calls for help were abruptly interrupted as the hand around his middle moved up to clamp over his mouth, leaving his desperate cries muffled.

In a surge of movement that surprised Malcolm with its strength, Martin managed to roll them over, pinning Malcolm on his stomach beneath his weight. Malcolm tried to get his hands and knees beneath his body to push up and get out, but a knee digging cruelly into his back thwarted him.

“Really, Malcolm.” His father gritted out from behind clenched teeth. “Such dramatics.”

His father gripped his right arm in a secure lock and, without warning, pulled sharply. Malcolm’s mind went blank as he screamed into Martin’s hand, agony racing through his shoulder and radiating to his trembling fingers.

A muffled sob was wrenched from Malcolm’s mouth before the rag was again placed over his face. He tried his best to hold his breath, although his lungs were already struggling from the pressure of the knee against his back and the pain incapacitating his mind. He continued to fight as best he could in the awkward position he was trapped in, but to no avail, as every possible move jostled his shoulder. Fire spread further throughout his chest with each passing moment.

“Come on.” Martin’s voice growled low in his ringing ears. “You need to breathe, my boy. Don’t make it any more difficult than it needs to be.”

Malcolm whimpered, desperately clawing his nails into the hand holding the rag before his wrist was snatched up and pinned against the floorboards. He needed to hold on just a bit longer, Malcolm told himself. Any moment, Gil and JT would be coming through the open door with guns raised and save him. His father would be forced to release him and he would be safe again. But that moment never came.

His surroundings grew darker as the lack of oxygen took its toll. He knew if he passed out, his brain would take over and he would breathe in the toxic fumes anyways. He choked as deliberate pressure was applied to his dislocated shoulder, and involuntarily took a breath. The sweet vapor flooded his senses, causing the floorboards to swirl beneath him.

“There you go. Breathe.” Martin encouraged. “Breathe.”

Malcolm couldn’t stop the breaths that came, no longer in control of his body as the world slowly faded into nothingness.

* * *

Dun dun dun! Wasn't originally planning to have any more chapters, but if that was something you all would be interested in, I could write some more...

Constructive criticism welcomed!


	2. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this took so long, but I had a heckin' lot of midterms and assignments due in this past little while. Research essays really suck too, and I've also been in a bad mood because of them.
> 
> Thank you so much for the amazing reception and support of this story! I wasn't originally going to have more chapters, but since you all asked so nicely... I will continue! Though probably slowly.
> 
> Just a forewarning that I haven't yet seen the newest episode. My roommates and I haven't splurged for cable, so I'm relying on being patient enough to watch it the next day on GlobalTV on my laptop.

Pain was the first thing that registered in Malcolm’s mind as he regained consciousness. He grimaced as his heartbeat pounded in his ears, roaring like crashing waves against his skull. He opened his eyes, but found that there was nothing to see. His head throbbed as his pitch black surroundings rumbled and jerked. He groaned, and tried to turn over, but found that he couldn’t. His arms were pulled behind his back, bound tightly together by what reminded Malcolm of the restraints on his bed. A moment of confusion passed before a horrible panic suddenly sent an unbearable heat rushing throughout his body as the earlier events returned to the forefront of his mind.

His father had escaped the prison. He’d shown up in his apartment and knocked out Dani. Malcolm vaguely remembered the fight that had ensued afterwards. The lack of air, the panic and desperation drumming against his chest, and the awful searing pain in his shoulder. It pulsated with every rapid beat of his heart as he recalled the scream that had been ripped from his throat when his father had dislocated his shoulder.

In a sudden knee-jerk reaction, he pulled at his restrained arms, crying out in shock as his shoulder erupted in intense pain. He breathed arduously through his nose, each ragged breath he took was punctuated with a muffled whimper as his mind struggled to comprehend what was actually going on.

This was real.

No, no, no, no. Malcolm sobbed, choking on whatever was in his mouth. He needed air to reach his lungs, but his chest constricted painfully as he struggled for it. He couldn’t breathe. His mouth was obstructed by what felt like a rag stuffed behind his teeth, held in place by a strip of thick fabric that cut into the corners of his mouth. He whimpered in panic, resisting the sudden urge to slam his head into the side of the cramped trunk in his flurry of desperation.

With all the nagging, intrusive thoughts swirling through his mind, one rose to the surface despite Malcolm’s attempts to push it down.

Was this how the girl in the box felt? Trapped, suffocated, helpless in the darkness?

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of her folded body to go away. Christ, Malcolm. Calm down. He needed to calm down in order to think rationally.

The hushed tone of his therapist’s voice broke through the deafening drone of the car, telling him to breathe. To close his eyes and wipe his mind clean. Malcolm took as deep a breath as he could without choking on the stale scent of the trunk. It smelled old, and it must have been, considering the absence of glow-in-the-dark emergency lever that would have made his predicament so much easier to escape from.

With a slight hitch in his dry throat, an idea came to him. Malcolm moved his feet around experimentally, finding them to be bound together at the ankles. This alone would make what he was thinking of doing exponentially harder.

At Quantico, they had practiced a scenario where they were trapped in the back of a trunk. It wasn’t often that what you learned in class was actually used in real life, but here you go. He was almost thankful for the gag muffling his voice as the pain in his shoulder was too much for him to remain quiet as he used his bound hands as leverage against the floor of the trunk. With every attempt to kick out the taillight, an agonizing jolt was sent racing up his arm and into his collarbone. He breathed forcefully through his nose, groaning and feeling the sweat accumulating upon his brow and down his back in the stuffy trunk.

With a loud crack, the light finally gave way. Malcolm sighed in relief, resting his forehead against the carpet and closing his eyes for a moment of reprieve. When he opened them again, he studied the crack of daylight streaming into the trunk, causing Malcolm to frown. How long had he been unconscious? It had been well past midnight when Dani had driven him home, and with the shorter days of winter progressing with every day, it could be anywhere from six in the morning to four in the afternoon.

He shook his head minutely, pushing the details to the back of his mind. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what came next, he shifted in his confined surroundings and maneuvered his bound feet towards the small opening to the outside world. His shoe proved too wide to shove far enough through, so he dragged the back of his feet against the carpet of the trunk a few times before it pulled it from his foot. Grimacing and breathing hard, he pushed his foot as far as it could through the opening and wiggled it around.

Please, he begged. Please let someone notice. Let there be someone driving just behind the car. Let them see him and call for help. For Gil, Dani, JT, anyone.

His body shifted in response to the car making a turn, letting out a muffled groan as his surroundings jerked when the tires hit a bump in the road. He listened closely, searching out the sounds of other cars passing by, but felt his stomach drop when he found none. With another bump, the sound of the tread of the tires against the ground was suddenly different. The car rumbled and slowed its pace as it seemed to leave the pavement behind for an undulating dirt path. Malcolm bit down hard on the gag as every bump sent a flaring pain through his shoulder.

The path continued for an unbearable expanse of time before the car slowed to a stop. Malcolm’s breathing accelerated as his panic was renewed and he quickly yanked his foot back into the confines of the trunk. Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins causing his body to demand for more air, he forced himself to hold his breath and listened for movement outside. The car groaned as someone got out from the driver’s side, their footsteps hitting the dirt.

Malcolm flinched violently as the trunk opened, the light temporarily blinding him. He squinted up at the figure, his vision slowly adjusting enough to see his father smiling down at him.

“Malcolm.” He greeted affectionately. “I thought I heard you shifting around back here.” He glanced to the side as something caught his attention, before tutting, “Did quite a number on the tail light, I see. A little late though, we left the major highway half an hour ago.”

Malcolm dared not let the despair he felt churning in his chest reveal itself on his face. He glared up at Martin, his bound hands curling into fists.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. This will be fun, I promise.”

Martin reached into the trunk and pulled Malcolm’s legs out first before fluidly maneuvering Malcolm into a brief sitting position on the ledge of the trunk. Before Malcolm could even attempt to take in his surroundings, he was quickly greeted with the feeling of weightlessness as he was hefted over his father’s shoulder. He cried out at the sudden movement as his shoulder was jostled painfully.

“Just breathe, my boy.” Martin advised, patting his thigh. “I’ll get that fixed up as soon as I can.”

Martin closed the trunk with a sharp slam before trudging away from the car. Malcolm struggled for a brief moment before resigning himself to remain still as every footfall jolted through him, causing white-hot needles to shoot up his arm. He watched with watering eyes as the dying leaves on the ground moved beneath him, feeling his stomach jump at the perspective.

They were soon met with a rush of heat as they passed through the threshold of a building. Martin let out a soft groan of strain as he gently lowered Malcolm into a chair, taking care to cradle his neck on the way down.

“Home sweet home.” Martin announced in a sickeningly lilting tone as he busied himself in adjusting Malcolm’s disheveled clothes.

Malcolm shied away from the hands, his body tense and coiled like a spring. His movement was stilled when Martin’s hand held his injured shoulder firmly in its grip, eliciting a muffled moan from Malcolm as his face contorted in agony.

“Oh, my dear boy. We should get that looked at, shouldn’t we?”

Malcolm looked away, avoiding his father’s gaze as tears of pain and fear welled up in his eyes. Martin seemed to grow tired of his resistance and knelt down in front of his son, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at him.

“Look at me, Malcolm. You may not see this now, but I’m trying to help you.” He whispered, his breath ghosting over Malcolm’s face. “We can finally be a family again.”

Malcolm whimpered as he struggled to pull his face from Martin’s grip, but his father’s fingers dug into his jaw as his other hand came to brace the back of his son’s head. Malcolm’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as he stared into Martin’s blue eyes. “We’re the same, you and I.” He breathed, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “You’ll soon see.”

The grip on his jaw disappeared for a moment before a rag was placed securely over his face once again. Malcolm thrashed in panic, trying to dislodge his father’s grasp on him as tears streamed freely down his face. Muffled screams echoed gently throughout the barren room, ringing in Malcolm’s ears before he inevitably succumbed to the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all have any suggestions for things to add to the story going forward, I am totally open to it all!


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